Author's Notes: I'm sure some of you may have noticed that the title chapters are less about being titles and more about being themes. At this point, I feel that I should explain that so readers who might be interested can gain more insight from chapters just by knowing this. I suppose you can say that the titles serve as a bit of a hint to what the chapter intends to convey. For those of you who like looking for deeper meaning (as most of us Pumpkineers are! :wink: ), you can go back and realize that! I can even tell you all about it in review if you want me to. I don't want to post it here as some may prefer to figure it out by themselves, but I'm always willing to discuss things.
I got some criticism regarding the time it takes between my releases. There were those who were really polite about it, and to those of you who were, I do apologize. Rest assured every moment I have to myself is devoted to writing; I don't even like watching television. To those who… managed to *annoy* me with the way they said it… chances are I've already… responded in a most annoyed fashion.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter Rating: NC-17. A bit smuttier than usual, I think, but it was ::cough:: necessary for the theme of the chapter. I'm sticking to that excuse, at least.
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Chapter Twelfth: Avoidance
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"I was intimate with Harry in that way." She finally told Cicero after a long recounting about the previous night's events.
She had just fed in the other room nearly a half-hour ago and was having a proper discussion with Cicero. In the beginning, it was impossible to have a decent conversation with her when she was cranky from hunger. Now she had a much better disposition and she could actually tell herself to stop being grouchy long enough to talk nicely until she next fed, but she found that therapy without feeding was a disaster waiting to happen. Emotional powwow before every meal was just not possible.
Now as she sat before him, her hunger sated, she could let her feelings loose without fear of flying off the handle.
She knew Cicero understood what she meant by "that way". She had never kept it a secret from Cicero that she had intimate relations with Harry, and she was honest about the fact that she had wanted to keep their lovemaking the way it was: Human. Cicero understood the implications of this new situation she was confessing to him.
His facial expression hadn't changed in the least. "And how do you feel about it?"
She frowned, annoyed. "Is that all you can say?"
This time, he seemed surprised as he calmly leaned back on his comfortable sofa chair. "Well, what do you want me to say?"
"I don't know… shouldn't you be scolding me for it? I was an emotional wreck last night. I'd just cremated my parents, I almost killed someone and it's only been two weeks since I was turned! I thought maybe I was acting irresponsibly."
"Well… did you use protection?"
"Very funny, Cicero."
Cicero smiled, looking vastly amused. "You were obviously ready to go that next step with him, whether you realized it or not. Before that, you were drinking synthetic blood just so you could make love to him guilt-free. Frankly, I didn't think it was the healthiest thing, but you'd only been at it for a short time, so I let you. Now you seemed to have fixed that problem. This is progress, Hermione."
"Progress for what? For becoming more the vampire that I am?"
He was silent for a few heartbeats. "You're going to have to accept it some time."
Her jaw tightened, feeling bitterness well up inside her. "Because that's the only option I have, isn't it? I don't have a choice."
Cicero fell quiet again, his expression thoughtful. "Have you spoken to Harry about this development in your relationship? I mean, really spoken to him about it? How he felt? Your deepest emotions while you and he made love that way?"
She paused, wondering why she didn't do just that. But she knew the answer to it almost immediately. "I've been touchy. I can't talk about any of this without blowing up in his face, and he doesn't deserve it from me. He's been very supportive and loving and… it's hurting him. I know it is, but he's taking it. He's taking it for me. WHY is he doing that? Does he like being MISERABLE? How can he stand it? If I were him I'd-I'd… I want to tell him how stupid he's being, and I just-I just-"
She realized a moment later that she was gripping the arms of her chair hard enough to rip holes into the upholstery.
Cicero remained straight faced. He was absorbing her words; processing it, maybe, because she hadn't spoken this much about any of it to him, either. This was a milestone of sorts, but whether it would do her any good or not was yet to be determined.
"What usually triggers your anger, Hermione?" he finally asked. "At what point in your conversations with him do you feel the need to 'blow up in his face'?"
She took a moment to consider. "When I feel he doesn't see the reality of the situation. That I'm a vampire. He's human. We might not have the happy ending he thinks we could have."
"You say 'happy ending'. What, to you, is a happy ending?"
"An ending where I make him happy."
"And you don't think you can give him this?"
"How can I? Being this way… as it is I'm changing. Becoming more vampire; less human everyday. The only thing I'm sure I can keep with me forever is how I feel about him. I love him. I love him so much, but I can't give him that happy ending he always wanted."
"And that is?"
"To marry. Raise a family. Grow old together…"
"And you think he cannot be happy any other way."
"He'll tell himself he can find happiness in me anyway, but he'll realize, sooner or later, what he doesn't have. What he can't have because of me, and he'll grow to resent me for it. I suppose… I suppose I can take that kind of punishment, but then he'd have lost more than I have. If I can turn back time for him and let him have the future he deserves after he realizes that I'm a mistake, then maybe I can take one lifetime from him, but… that's not the way it works. He only gets one chance, and it's either a mistake or it isn't."
"What is it that you want to tell him but don't have the courage to say to his face, Hermione? Tell me."
Her eyes filled, and just thinking the words broke her heart. She remembered the look in his eyes when she left him at Grimmauld Place. Saw the pain in his gaze as she walked out of the house.
With lips trembling, she spoke. "He doesn't know what he wants. Not right now. He says he'll give his dreams up for me, but I think he deserves better. He has sacrificed enough, and I won't stand by and watch him sacrifice even more. We can't be together. I can't let us be together. I love him. If I ever… leave him, I'll do it for him, because if I stay, I'll bring him nothing but death… nothing but utter misery…"
~~
Hermione closed her eyes as the wind whipped against her cheeks. Some wisps of her hair brushed against her skin, but the bun that held the rest of her brown locks stayed tight.
She felt Harry's lips press on the back of her neck and she shuddered, smiling in spite of her dreary memories from several days before. She and Harry hadn't fought as badly as their last exchange in the map room, but they had had moments of high tension, nipped in the bud either by forbearance or sex.
Despite her first time misgivings, they had indulged in that kind of sex one more time. The other times she had held back her instincts, and she managed it even without the synthetic blood.
Other than their sexual encounters, their moments alone together were strained, as if they were both always on the verge of saying something but holding it back for fear of setting each other off. Hermione prayed it didn't destroy them.
God knows, I love him more than anyone. More than anything, she often thought, but there were things to consider in their relationship now, important things that weren't going away. They would have to deal with it sometime, and Hermione hoped they would manage to without causing each other permanent damage.
She looked over her shoulder to meet his gaze and he caught it. He smiled briefly, adjusting his hold on his Firebolt and increasing the speed of their flight. She nestled back against him more snugly, rubbing her nose lightly against his jaw before settling back. He loved to fly, and she loved being in his arms. This was perfect. She wished they could be this way forever.
They zipped through the sky surrounded by various other brooms carrying Tonks, Remus, Shacklebolt, Ron and Draco.
The Malfoy Fortune heir wasn't the least bit pleased that his broom had been tethered to Tonks's as if he were seven instead of seventeen. He wasn't too happy about the fact that his range of motion was limited, either.
When he first learned about the flight arrangements, he complained so loudly that Hermione scathingly told him, "Considering you aided and abetted Albus Dumbledore's murderer, you're lucky we aren't dragging you by your ankles from the end of a chain, ferret breath."
Draco very infuriatingly replied, "I suppose I am lucky. After all, you've been keeping me company these past few days in the dungeon, and for someone I hate, I must admit that I enjoyed having you around, Granger, especially when I catch you prancing around in those shorts of yours when you think I don't see you."
Harry had gotten so riled up by that that it took both Remus and Ron to hold him back.
They were on their way to the secret location of the Order meeting. The way to it took a lot of portkeying and elaborate apparitions. This was the final leg of their journey but was by far, the longest stretch. They had packed some clothes and overnight things. Her coffin had been shrunk with the rest of their possessions.
"Somehow, the phrase 'Everything but the kitchen sink' just doesn't cut it," she had said as her coffin was being put away.
Draco had actually found it funny, though he had expressed it with a derisive snort. There had to be something wrong with her if she shared the same sense of humor with Malfoy.
She was surprised to note that flying wasn't the least bit as terrifying to her as it used to be. She wasn't sure if it was because Harry made her feel safe or because her vampirism had removed the fear from her. Either way, she was very comfortable in Harry's arms. She wanted to snuggle and slip her arms under his shirt. But of course it wasn't appropriate, and she was fairly certain Draco would have something very unpleasant to say about it.
Hermione couldn't tell where they were, exactly. All she knew was that they were somewhere over Ireland, and that sometime during their portkeying, they had crossed the Irish Sea.
They were flying over a thick growth of forest.
The traveling party took a sharp left and Draco had to struggle to regain his poise.
Ron smirked. "Enjoying the ride, Malfoy?"
Draco narrowed his gaze at him. "Bet you're enjoying it, Weasel. You're certainly in no danger of splinching your eyebrows with this mode of transportation."
Ron reddened. "No, but you're in danger of getting pushed off your broom."
Draco scoffed. "Go on, then. I dare you to do it."
Ron might have if Hermione hadn't gone and warned him not to even joke about it.
"Why, sunshine!" cried Draco, grinning. He loved using the nickname now since he realized how infuriating it was for Harry. "I didn't know you cared! Not that I'm all that surprised. I know I'm irresistible."
"And they call me delusional," Harry muttered aside.
Hermione ignored Draco's conceit. If she were so inclined, she could match his vanity with her own, but she wasn't quite ready to expose that embarrassing side of her yet. "I care about Ron. I don't want him to go to Azkaban for offing you. You, on the other hand, can go to hell and I wouldn't lose any sleep over it."
"Bet you we'll see each other there, vampire."
"Talk about eternal damnation."
"If I were you, I'd be having orgasms at the mere thought that I'd be spending forever with me."
Harry glared at him. "Wanking off on yourself again, Malfoy?"
Draco was about to say something when Tonks began to yell at them all.
"Alright, the lot of you cut that out! We're thousands of feet above the ground, for Merlin's sake! I can't believe you're bickering at this altitude!"
"What does altitude have to do with it?" asked Draco. "Is snarkiness supposed to be inversely proportional to one's distance from the ground?"
"Be quiet, Draco!" Tonks hissed, and that was the end of it.
Hermione huffed, muttering over her shoulder at Harry. "D'you think if I strangle Malfoy, we can make it look like an accident?"
Harry chuckled, his breath tickling the back of her ear. "Nope. But I've heard that pushing someone off a cliff may yield the desired effect."
She grinned, craning her neck to speak in his ear. "I'm a bad influence on you, Potter. Or maybe it's all those vampire books you've been reading…"
He smiled, keeping his gaze on the sky ahead of him to maneuver them safely. He bent to speak in her ear. "You don't like what those books have been teaching me? I never was quite as good with theory as I am with hands on stuff."
"Hmm, for some reason hearing you say that makes me want to kiss you."
"It's the teaching thing. Turns you on."
"I think it's the broom thing. Riding yours brings nice thoughts."
His eyes crinkled merrily at the double entendre. "I don't mind when you service it, either."
She pinched his thigh for being twice as saucy.
Her mirth was disrupted by the sharp cold of ice and gloom. She felt despair; hopelessness, and amidst it all, she knew that there was something horribly wrong.
A cry of terror pierced the night air. It came from Tonks and she swerved dangerously out of course. Draco looked like he was going to be sick.
It sent Hermione's heart leaping and she involuntarily clutched at Harry, the way she always did when she was frightened.
Something dark and terrible whipped past her line of vision and the icy coldness that pierced her skin told her enough.
"Dementors!" Shacklebolt cried.
There were over a dozen of them swarming to close in on their group like bats, their black, spectral clothing inky against the pale-moon night.
"Evasive maneuvers!" yelled Remus. "Fly low!"
"Tonks! Release me, now!" demanded Draco.
At that point, even Hermione thought he deserved to try and get through this alive by himself. Tonks apparently felt the same way. She let Draco go, and as one, the group plummeted to fly closer to the forest.
"Ron! Oh, Ron!" Hermione cried, horribly worried. The elders were experienced fliers and Harry and Draco were seekers, but Ron was a Keeper. Ron didn't do the kind of flying this situation called for. "Harry, we can't-"
She wasn't even sure if Harry heard her, but he made a sweeping turn and they saw Ron coming up right behind them, pale-faced but determined to out-fly their pursuers.
Harry called for him, beckoning to him forcefully.
Ron swerved in their direction, barely avoiding a dementor on his tail.
As Ron came around, Harry flew by him, matching the pace of Ron's broom, which felt painfully slow compared to the speed of the Firebolt.
"Get on!" Harry cried.
"What!" Ron and Hermione shouted together.
"Your broom's too slow! Get on!"
"But-"
"With three of us on this broom, it's still faster than yours. Ron, we haven't time to argue!"
Ron's jaw tightened but he grabbed hold of Harry's cloak and hauled himself behind them, clutching at his Comet desperately.
Hermione shrunk it with a flick of her wand and Ron's thanks were drowned out in the whistle of wind as Harry shot forward to dive into the trees. She was about to make very loud protests about the dangers of flying through the forest at this speed when Ron did it for her, yelling into Harry's ear, about how absolutely mad he was and how Harry was going to get them all killed in one fell swoop.
Harry completely ignored these objections, making fast and impossible turns avoiding trees and dementors alike.
Draco appeared out of nowhere on his own Firebolt, pulling up beside them with dementors in tow. The seekers flew around each other, swimming through tree trunks and suspended foliage.
There was no sign of their other companions, but it would be easy to re-converge once the danger had passed.
Harry flew them deeper into the forest, and it almost seemed like they were going to get away as the dementors behind them thinned. Ron was already grinning and thumping Harry on the shoulder.
"Well done, Harry!" Ron cried. "That was ace flying!"
Harry blushed mildly, flushed with pride.
"Yes, because he's the only one with the skill and agility to have managed those twists and turns," said Draco dryly.
Hermione bit back a remark about Draco kissing her ass if he wanted any kind of affirmation for his flying, because after all, she was bumming a ride off her boyfriend. She instead ignored him. So did Ron, who was probably thinking along lines similar to hers.
They were just about to land when Draco suddenly cried out and veered towards them. A dementor had emerged from the brush, followed by four others.
Draco barreled into them, sending them in a brief spiral towards the ground.
Hermione shrieked and she could have sworn she heard Ron's scream over her own. Harry steered expertly, but the dementor's sudden appearance and Draco's panic-stricken maneuver had done its work. Harry couldn't avoid the crash, so he did the only thing he could do. He lowered their height as best he could so that they wouldn't have far to fall.
The tail of Harry's Firebolt caught on a branch and all three of them lurched forward as the broom lost flight. They tumbled, yelling as the rocks and growth dug painfully into their bodies by sheer inertia.
Hermione felt the ground scraping her knees and the heels of her palms.
Harry and Ron spewed such foul profanities about Draco's Slytherin courage-which of course they meant was non-existent-that Hermione found she hadn't the vehemence to add anymore to it.
Hermione felt the biting cold as the trees surrounding her froze into gray, unrelenting ice. They were hopelessly surrounded.
She felt someone grab her arm in a tight grip and she was hauled to her feet. It was Harry.
"We've got to try to make a run for it," he said frantically.
"Run? Aren't you Gryffindors supposed to be braver than that?" Draco hissed. "And in case you haven't noticed, Potter, they're all around us!"
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron growled as he raised his wand. "Expect-"
"NO!" Harry cried, grabbing Ron's wrist. "You can't! You'll hurt Hermione!"
Hermione was horrified. Harry was right, and she had put them in danger.
"Then I have to leave!" she shrieked, yanking herself out of Harry's grip.
She broke free and she attempted to take off amidst Harry's vehement yells of protest, but she didn't get very far. A dementor fell upon her, scrambling to get hold of her. She was able to resist the worse of its powers, but not its physical strength. They were, both of them, dark creatures, but she stumbled on the ground when she felt the first icy effects of its horrible magic. It couldn't possibly take her soul, but she knew it was going to try and it could weaken her in the process.
Harry cried out to her and she could see the helplessness in his eyes.
The dementors closed in on Harry and Ron while Draco stumbled to get behind them.
"Ron! Call your patronus! Call it!" she screamed in her most commanding tone.
"Don't!" Harry cried over her.
His voice was drowned out in the grim moans of dementors swooping down to take their souls piece by piece.
Ron and Harry collapsed on the forest floor and Hermione screamed hysterically, the dementor atop her pinning her to the ground and struggling to get something from her.
Draco crawled from beneath Harry's limp form, gasping and tumbling backwards to get away from the dark creatures hovering about. He held up his wand, looking at her with an unpleasant a sneer.
"This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me," he hissed hurriedly.
If it was his way of asking her permission, then so be it.
"Do it!" she cried.
Draco summoned his patronus. It was an eagle. A large one and it beat its wings in a blinding ray of light.
Hermione felt the light touch of heat before it became a searing, flesh-eating pain. She screamed, covering her face with her hands as the power of the patronus charred her alive.
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Hermione broke the surface of unconsciousness to the agony of her burnt body. It was like nothing she had felt before.
Having had a sword run through her, she realized now that that had been more shock than pain. This, what she was feeling now, was pure torture. It was like millions of miniscule creatures were gnawing at her all at once just beneath the surface of her skin, and the pinprick stinging went right to the very center of her bones. The slightest wind; the softest breath; made the pain a hundred times worse.
She opened her eyes and knew only one worked right now, and as she tried to speak, cry out, say something, she could barely manage a sound. There was only a hollow, rasping wheeze.
Gingerly, she tried to orient herself.
She was lying on something soft, lumpy, but soft. And she was no longer on a forest floor. It looked like she was in a dungeon. Stone and moss surrounded her, the sound of running water echoing nearby. It smelled of dampness and earth. There was lighting. A few torches, and it was hot; terribly so.
Carefully, she raised her arm to look at it.
The horrific sight of her blackened, bleeding and weeping skin would have made her gorge rise if vampires ever did have the tendency to throw up. Instead, she felt tears pooling in her good eye. It slipped down her cheek and she raised her other hand to wipe it away. It wasn't as burnt. The arm was whole and there was more pink flesh than black, but the back of her better hand had been scorched some as well. The three fingers of it looked burnt enough to fall off. She didn't want to lose her fingers.
She heard the shifting of cloth and Remus came into view. She smelled his blood and she knew she needed it, but werewolf blood was not like human blood. Werewolf blood didn't call to her like human blood did.
He didn't say anything at first. He stared at her with his brows knotted in concern. Maybe he was waiting for her to speak.
"H-Harry…" she whispered painfully. It was all she could manage. "Ron…"
Thank goodness Remus understood. "They're a lot better than you are, that's for certain. They're unconscious as of yet, but they'll make it. So will you, for that matter, but I reckon it won't be pleasant for you at all."
She was relieved that they were alright, but it occurred to her that they would have died, because she had been there, and because Harry and Ron chose to die rather than cause her pain. She wanted to scream from sheer guilt, but she hadn't the strength.
"We were attacked, as you might have figured out," Remus continued, rising from his seat to go somewhere in the chamber.
Hermione hadn't figured it yet, but she supposed it made sense. Dementors resided anywhere they pleased, but they liked being in places that humans often strayed. They definitely didn't hang around thick, unpopulated, sparsely traveled forests.
Their travel party hadn't unwittingly caught a pack of dementors; the dementors had been expecting them.
"Voldemort knew that many Order members would be on the move," said Remus. "We weren't the only ones attacked, and our decoys…"
Decoys. Another party had been assembled as decoys for them, sent in a route everyone had expected them to take.
Hermione looked at him hopefully as he emerged in her line of vision.
Remus shook his head, his face grim. "None of them made it. They were attacked by Death Eaters. And… they were massacred the way your-well, we have reason to believe the Death Eaters had a vampire with them."
Massacred the same way my parents were. None of them stood a chance. She felt more tears spill.
It was only after a moment of guilty weeping that she noticed Remus holding a hefty bottle filled with red, viscous liquid. She recognized it instantly and her hunger surged.
"It's bottled, but the blood's newly given. Thank goodness for willing donors."
Remus took a bowl as he removed the cork from the bottle's mouth.
The scent of the blood reached her nostrils and her craving spiked. Her fangs stayed where they were, though, and Hermione realized that blood drunk from a bowl was not the same as blood drunk from its original vessel. The nutritional value of it, she imagined, wasn't the same because the pleasure of drawing blood with one's teeth was lost, but she could only suppose that no one had been willing to offer her blood that way. This would have to do, and it would help, anyway.
Like eating instant noodles instead of getting the good stuff at the Chinese restaurant. She would have laughed at the comparison if it weren't so disturbing.
She watched the blood ooze from the bottle and pour into the bowl, gleaming crimson under the firelight.
When the bowl was half filled, Remus helped her take the blood.
In tasted better than she thought and she drank all she could, as quickly as she could. The warmth of it filled her and for a brief, blessed moment, the pain eased away.
Remus kept giving her blood until she'd drank most of the bottle's contents, and when she can drink no more, the warmth from the blood seemed to settle deep within her, making her lethargic.
"Try to sleep," he said gently. "Minerva's still trying to find something to transfigure into a coffin. We… lost yours during the attack."
She would have groaned if she had the energy.
"In the meantime, this bed would have to do. We're underground, so you don't have to worry about sunlight. Besides, you need treating in the next few hours. This works best for you for the meantime."
She hadn't the strength to agree or disagree. She just wanted to close her eyes and pray that when she woke up, the pain would be gone, or at least lessened.
Closing her eyes, she let sleep take her. It was the only reprieve she had.
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The fourth time Hermione woke from sleep, a day had passed. For the first time since she'd been waking up, the pain wasn't as severe, and when she struggled to speak, she actually made a sound.
Remus reappeared at her side again, this time he was smiling. "How do you feel?"
It seemed stupid to say she felt better since she still felt wretched, but it was an improvement from the last three times she woke. "Extra crispy," she rasped.
He took her wisecracking to be a positive sign. "Your last sleep did you good. Fourteen hours."
Daytime sleep. And then some.
She moved her hand and lifted it into view. It did look better. The charred skin was chipping off and she could see some patches of new skin growing. At the very least, it didn't look gross anymore, just weird. Probably a teensy bit frightening.
She had regenerated considerably. As Remus said, sleep and blood had done her good.
Gently, she touched her hand to the burnt half of her face. She could still feel some crust, but it wasn't very painful anymore. Perhaps a bit sore, and she could feel her eye. It didn't seem like she could see out of it yet, but she seemed to have gotten her eyelid back.
She cleared her throat, trying to speak in a normal tone. "Harry and Ron…"
"They gained consciousness a while ago, but the healer immobilized them both, else they'd be here right now."
Hermione didn't doubt it.
Remus once again gave her blood to drink. She was beginning to wonder who her willing donors were. Whoever they were, Hermione owed them her thanks.
She could think of another person she owed thanks to.
"Thank you," she said. "For taking care of me."
His kind smile graced his weary features. "You're welcome. Besides, I seem to be answering my true calling, whether you and I want to admit it or not."
She reddened, embarrassed. "Oh, Remus, no…"
He chuckled softly. "Think nothing of it, Hermione. I'd rather it's you than anyone else, you know? I am not the least bit bothered by it."
Well she was. The idea of elves serving masters was revolting enough. The thought of her keeping a werewolf just because his instincts were telling him he should serve the vampire sickened her.
The sound of iron banging against iron rang out through the chamber. It was followed by the rumble of ball bearings grating against metal grooves.
Remus sighed and he stepped away from her. Hermione had a feeling she knew what was going on.
If she had the strength to grab the edge of her blanket and pull it over herself, she would have done it, but relative to the pain, the way she looked seemed like a trivial matter.
Harry and Ron tumbled into view, their gazes filling with shock at the sight of her.
She volleyed between asking them how they got away from the healer and being cheeky. She opted for the latter. "If you think this is bad you should see the other guy."
Harry fell to his knees beside her, not the least bit consoled. He delicately touched the uninjured half of her face as the muscles around his eyes tensed. He looked over his shoulder at Remus. "Who called the patronus?"
For a moment, Remus didn't reply. Harry would definitely take it the wrong way, no matter how he tried to say it. "Now, Harry, it had to be done. He-"
"Who called it?"
Remus paused, then sighed. "Malfoy. It was Malfoy."
"Malfoy?" Ron gasped, probably shocked that Draco could conjure a patronus at all.
Harry breathed deeply, as if to control something. "I'll kill him."
Hermione could have sighed if she could. "He saved you both. If it wasn't for him-"
Harry's piercing gaze whipped to her. "Look what he's done to you!"
She narrowed her gaze. "I told him to call it. The patronus couldn't kill me and the dementors would have done you in."
"He didn't do it for us."
She frowned. It was a hollow argument and he knew it. What difference did it make if Draco did it for them or himself? He did do it for himself, because he'd always been a self-serving bastard who thought he was better than everyone else. He led Death Eaters into Hogwarts and he tried to kill Dumbledore, but right now, he was the reason Harry and Ron were alive. Draco didn't deserve grief for this.
"Leave him alone, Harry," she simply said. "I'll live. You would have died."
Harry's jaw hardened stubbornly, but he didn't deny it.
Ron sighed, sitting dazedly on an old, overturned crate. "Malfoy had a patronus…"
"It was an eagle," Remus said. "A big one."
"Wonderful. I get a Jack Russell Terrier and he gets a great big eagle. Where's the justice in that?"
Harry frowned. "Is that even important right now?"
"You're right. What's important and damning right now is that… I'm indebted to Malfoy."
"We don't owe him anything," Harry hissed. "Can you even fathom the kind of pain Hermione had to endure-"
"Harry," said Ron in a tired tone. "It kills me to see Hermione this way. You understand this, don't you? But I'm going to admit to something I'm probably going to regret. Frankly, I had no idea a patronus could do this to her and-and if Malfoy hadn't called the patronus, I'd have done it myself."
Harry stared at him, unresponsive.
Ron fidgeted. "Harry, did you hear what I-"
"I heard you."
"Then you understand what I'm trying to tell you. I'd have done it for you, because I couldn't let you get killed. Heck, I don't want to die. Hermione would've made me do it, at any rate. So the fact remains…"
Hermione wasn't sure if she should say something. It was a bit unusual to hear Ron taking the sensible course rather than the emotional one, and she had to admit that she felt rather proud of him standing up to Harry, but she didn't know if it was in Ron's best interest to be admitting such things to Harry at this time.
Harry said nothing, turning his back on Ron.
She saw the look in his eyes; the anger and the outrage. It was just wrong that Harry was feeling this way for their best friend.
Struggling, she pushed herself to a sitting position. Harry tried to help her but she gestured for him to leave her alone. She glared at him, and she imagined that she looked quite frightening. With half her face burnt, she must have looked more the monster than she ever professed she was.
"Harry," she began crisply. "Don't you turn your back on Ron."
He clearly hadn't expected her reprimand. "What?"
"Don't you turn your back on Ron! I won't have it. It's bad enough that you refuse to acknowledge that Malfoy did something to save your lives, but for you to act the git just because Ron admitted that he would have done exactly what he was supposed to just makes it all very absurd and-frankly-outrageous! I'm in a bad mood, Harry. This is not a good time to piss me off!"
His surprised expression had morphed into anger. "Well, forgive me for caring for you-"
"This isn't about me! I'm fine-"
"FINE? You call this fine? You're half-charred! You can't even see out of your right eye! You-"
She gave a frustrated growl. "Again, this is not about me! Would you listen to yourself? You're so consumed about what would happen to me. About what I'm feeling. About me, me and ME! I appreciate it, Harry. I really do, but stop it! Just stop it! It's not healthy. It's not right. The constellation of stars doesn't revolve around Hermione Granger! For once, think about yourself, and Ron, and maybe even Malfoy! Draco didn't deserve to die by having his soul sucked out of him just because I could get hurt!"
Somehow, Hermione had a feeling she was getting to things she hadn't expected to bring up, and by the look on Ron and Remus's faces, they just wanted to leave that room so she and Harry could have it out.
"What do you want from me, Hermione?" he yelled, anger and frustration clearly in his tone. It was the second time he had asked the question. "If I can't look out for you, then whatever the hell else am I supposed to do? It's all I can do!"
She laughed bitterly. "See? That's exactly what I mean. You have loads of things you can do, none of which have to do with watching out for me. You've a whole life ahead of you filled with enormous possibilities-"
Fear stabbed at the furious look in his eyes and he stepped away from her. "Stop it."
She eyed him stubbornly. She knew he knew what she was going to tell him. They had just been putting off the inevitable. "Harry, listen to me. I think you and I-"
"I said stop it!" he shouted.
She narrowed her gaze at him. He can't just shut me off like that. Pussyfooting's over. He has to hear what I have to say! But before she could start speaking again, he turned, shooting her a glare before he left the chamber and sliding the door shut after him with a bang.
Hermione sat there, trembling from the spent emotions. She could feel Ron and Remus's eyes on her.
"H-Hermione," Ron began in a cautious, quiet tone. "Y-You didn't have to go at Harry like that on account of me. He's just very protective of you-"
"I didn't mean for you to get dragged into this," she said. "But I think it quickly stopped being about you the louder we yelled at each other."
"Oh."
"Sorry. Still, he shouldn't be angry with you. Pissed me off that he was."
He smiled hesitantly. "Th-thanks."
Remus cleared his throat. "Ron, best go check on Harry. I wouldn't recommend that you try to talk to him, though. Just make sure he isn't beating the lights out of Draco in the other cell, you know?"
"Right. I'll come by again, Hermione."
She nodded as he left.
Remus sighed, shaking his head. "I suppose you had a point."
"But?"
"You were very harsh."
"I'm a vampire. I'm ruthless."
"You're not being ruthless because you're a vampire. You're being ruthless because you feel you have to be."
Hermione took a moment to absorb the fact that Remus understood in two minutes what Harry had refused to understand in the last three weeks. "I'm not good for him anymore Remus. I used to be able to help him before. Be there for him. Now I'm this. He loves me, and he'll do anything for me, but I'm nothing but a burden, at best, dangerous, at worse."
"Now, Hermione-"
"They almost died because of me. He chose the lives of all of them for me. Sure, it's all good and romantic now, but there will come a time when it will destroy him and everyone else."
Remus's gaze filled with compassion. "Hermione, this is a fluke. This won't happen all the time-"
"That's bullcrap and you know it."
They were silent for several seconds.
Finally, Remus looked up at her beseechingly. "You can't leave him, Hermione."
She swallowed the knot in her throat. So Remus understood it more fully than he let on.
He continued. "Harry… that boy… Lily's boy… when he's with you, I see both his parents when they were so happy. And it's not just because you and he have a relationship. Anyone can have a relationship with a suitable enough partner, but you and Harry… you were made for one another. It sounds silly and fanciful when others say it, but with the two of you it's real. You simply can't throw away something so rare."
"That was then. Have you seen him that happy again, these days?"
"This is just a period of adjustment."
Hermione nodded slightly, staring vacantly at the mold-ridden stone wall beside her bed. "You've been with vampires before, Remus. Tell me, at what point is the human considered adjusted? When he gets used to the constant blood loss? Or maybe when he no longer gets rattled by the viciousness? The ferocity? When he's given everything he has to give and there's nothing of him left? A vampire gives nothing in return, you know."
Remus didn't reply at once. "Of course you give something in return…"
She shook her head. "The burden of sacrifice falls on the human. He has sacrificed so much already. Surely you understand what I mean. Why does he have to keep doing that? Why does it always have to be him? His mother… she sacrificed her life for him, so that he could have a future. Is it so wrong that I'd want to do the same for him? If I stay, then I'll be taking away everything his mother died for."
For a moment, Remus was at a loss for words. Then he seemed to recover a bit. "If you leave him, you'll kill him."
She gave a bitter chuckle. "Now that's fanciful. Nobody dies of a broken heart, Remus. Romantic as it may all seem, it simply doesn't happen like that. People live, and they move on, usually to better things. At this point, anybody's better than me."
"Hermione…"
"No one deserves a vampire. We bring nothing but death."
"It's not about who deserves what," said Remus, a renewed glimmer in his eyes. "It all has to do with being with someone. Loving someone enough to do things, or let them do things. Tonks… God knows, I'll go spare without her, and I realize the sacrifices she makes for me, but more than anything, she wants to take care of me. That's all she asks. And so I let her. I let her and it's… not such a bad thing. In fact, it's rather nice to know that someone will be there for you, no matter what. Why would you waste such a gift?"
She closed her eyes, letting Remus's words wash over her. A gift, he called it.
He's right. What Harry does for me… it's a gift. It's a gift.
She repeated the words in her head, like a mantra. Telling herself it was true. Telling herself that gifts were made to be appreciated. Cherished.
Setting aside her fears for the moment, she managed to nod, opening her eyes to meet Remus's gaze as she did so.
The lines on his forehead softened, as if relieved that he had averted danger.
She wasn't above feeling a bit of relief herself. Maybe this wasn't as bad as she thought. Maybe, just maybe, Remus was right.
He's right. It's a gift. It's a gift. It's a gift...
Now all she had to do was believe it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry opened the door to Draco's cavern and found Dobby standing guard. Behind the bars, Draco lay on the cot with his hands behind his head, his robes spread out beneath him as if to protect him from the grime of the mattress.
Draco sneered when he saw Harry.
Dobby looked ecstatic. "Oh, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is happy that you are up and about! Dobby-"
Without removing his determined gaze from Draco, Harry said, "I'll not be needing you for the meantime, Dobby. I'll call you back when I'm done here."
Dobby's huge, tennis ball eyes widened even more, no doubt surprised by the venom in Harry's tone. But Dobby did not pose questions. He simply nodded and disappeared with a tiny pop.
Harry slammed the door to the cavern shut and paced in front of the bars, eyeing Draco with blatant contempt. He had come to take his pent up aggression out on Draco. Perhaps make the aggravating Slytherin realize that getting beat up the muggle-way could be just as bad as getting magically hexed.
The problem, Harry realized, was that now that he was there, he couldn't find it in himself to pound on Draco when the boy lay reticent behind a cage. Not only did Harry think it was mean and dishonorable to beat Draco senseless in his present captivity, but it seemed like an awfully juvenile thing to do.
Harry hated that his plan for catharsis was an awful failure.
He grabbed Dobby's sitting stool and hurled it against one of the many rotting crates dumped haphazardly nearby. The stool punched a hole through the rotting wood and clouds of dust came up. Yelling, Harry kicked the crate several more times, widening the hole enough to have the crate partially collapse in itself.
Breathing heavily, he stepped back, gritting his teeth.
"Storage crates," said Draco. "You have to show them who's boss."
Harry glared at him. He held up his hand, holding his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "You're this close to getting the shite beat out of you, Malfoy, so shut the hell up."
"This about your girlfriend, Potter?"
"Gee! How did you know?"
Draco scoffed. "It was either her or me, and in what universe would I ever choose someone else over my own life? Certainly not in this one, and certainly not for your mudblood bitch."
Harry realized right there that all he needed to get his rage going was proper motivation. Blowing the lock on Draco's cell with his wand, he kicked the door in and stalked towards Draco with surefire determination. Even Draco backed up in momentary fear. Grabbing Draco by the front of his expensive dress shirt, Harry pulled back his fist and clocked a solid one on Draco's jaw.
Draco stumbled to the side, an absolutely dazed expression in his watery eyes. He spat blood, a scowl crumpling his aristocratic features.
"I had to use the patronus and having you two plebes live because I had to save my life was a consequence I was willing to put up with…" said Draco somewhat drunkenly. A sneer began to form on his lips. "Besides, seeing her burn makes it all worth the aggravation."
That was it. Harry plowed right into Draco, knocking the fey boy to the moldy ground. That might have caused Draco's initial yell of protest because heaven forbid his designer clothing get soiled. But his cries quickly died when Harry, clutching Draco by the collar of the same designer shirt while in full mount, pounded his fist on Draco's face again, and again, and again.
The blood didn't faze Harry in the least. All he knew was there was this blinding rage inside him that needed letting out and Draco was just perfect for the job.
Harry could have very well gone on until every bone on Draco's face was broken, but he felt a massive force heaving him back and hauling him away. He was thrown towards the wall and he stumbled only slightly, advancing right back towards Draco and fully intending to continue from where he left off without giving a second thought about just who had overpowered him.
It was Ron, and the tall, big-boned redhead had to slam him up against the wall to stop him in his tracks.
The stars that blossomed in his vision from the blow was quickly cleared away by Ron's flabbergast tirade.
"Bloody hell, Harry! Get a hold of yourself! He's out! There's nothing left for you to beat!"
Harry heaved lungs full of air as he let Ron's words sink in. Slowly, his sense of self returned and he saw what he had done to Draco.
Draco was spread eagle on the floor, blinking very dazedly at the stone ceiling. Blood poured from his broken nose and split lip and he didn't even have the wits to scowl or say something sarcastic. Harry had really done him in.
Now that he was giving it a second thought, Harry realized that Draco Malfoy had been no match for him in a blow-by-blow confrontation. In a situation where Harry saw nothing but his anger, Draco hadn't stood a chance. While Harry wasn't the biggest boy there was-often considered skinny, in fact-he still had what it took to-say, take blows from a six foot three young man like Ron, or punches from Dudley. He had considerably enough muscle, too, developed from years of manual labor from the Dursleys and perhaps the strange, wizard-type "weight training" they did to condition themselves for Quidditch.
So it was easy to determine that Draco, the fey, mansion-grown, rich man's heir didn't have much to recommend him in a all-out knock-down brawl, whereas Harry had stood up to the worse of them: Dragons, giants, basilisks, Ron and Dudley. It was no contest, and Harry felt the tiniest bit of guilt. Just a smidgen, though. This was Draco Malfoy they were talking about, after all.
"He said…" Harry gasped, realizing that he was still breathing heavily from the intensity of his emotions. "H-Hermione…"
Ron pushed Harry's back to the wall again, but gently this time, just for good measure. "We'll talk about that in a while. Right now, you stay right here while I go look over Malfoy and-and see what I can do for him if you haven't sodding killed him."
It was different now, Harry realized. Draco had saved their lives and Ron understood that. One just didn't forget that, even if the person who saved you had been abusing your family's name and heritage for the last six years. Godric Gryffindor expected it of his followers.
In any case, Ron seeing to Draco consisted of Ron nudging Draco's side with the toe of his boot and saying, "Oy, Malfoy." He held up two fingers to Draco's face. "How many fingers?"
For a moment, Draco didn't reply, then he spoke. "Big ugly weasel."
"Well, that sounds like you'll make it. Not sure about the nose, though, looks broken, and I think you lost a couple of teeth. If you asked me you never looked better."
Draco gave him the finger.
Ron snorted and grabbed Draco's arm none too gently. "Get up and sit your arse over there." He nodded in the direction of the cot.
Draco wrenched his arm away and turned over, letting the blood from his nose and mouth drip to the dungeon floor. "I'll do it without you, thank you very much. You'll get blood on my shirt and you simply don't ruin an Alessandro Guylaine with bodily fluids."
Ron stepped back and let Draco do what he wanted. "Hate to break it to you, Malfoy, but in case you haven't noticed, you're in a dungeon. You're overdressed."
Draco managed to make lumbering look graceful and he staggered to the dirty dungeon cot with admirable Malfoy grace. "Well, mother always said it's better to overdress." He sat on the edge of the cot, slouching over with his elbows to his knees, his blood soiling the ground underneath.
"Aren't you just the little mama's boy?"
"Takes one to know one, weasel." Draco flashed Ron a beatific and bloody smile but was unable to hold it, hacking and spitting seconds later.
"Right. Real classy," said Ron dryly.
Draco sneered. "So sue me. This isn't exactly a fucking prim and proper tea party, is it?"
Harry realized that there was absolutely nothing to feel guilty about when it came to Draco Malfoy.
"If it was I'd be shoving a scone down your throat," said Ron, going for the bait.
An evil grin spread on Draco's bleeding lips, but he said nothing.
Ron rolled his eyes and turned to Harry as he ushered them out of the cell. Looking at the lock, Ron only shook his head as he repaired what was left of it and stuck on one of George's more clever locking spells. He gave Harry's hand one look and scourgified Draco's blood off it.
Harry muttered his thanks, somewhat embarrassed.
"Hey, Weasel," said Draco before they could go.
Ron sighed and looked over his shoulder. "What?"
"Tell your sister that next time we meet I can definitely give her a ride on my broom."
"Why, you-"
Harry grabbed Ron's vest, stopping him in his tracks and dragging him away.
They left the dungeons and went up a short flight of stairs to get to the house proper. It was an old, stone manor, long disappeared from the face of any map. All around it were trees, weeds, vines and wildlife. It was warded one kilometer around on all sides and the only way to get to it was by an ancient Fidelius charm from its sole living inheritor Elphias Doge. It wasn't a very grand place. It once housed a knight and his family and they lived a moderate lifestyle, perhaps with as little as two house servants and a small stable and squire staff. The manor was well kept enough to have clean rooms, working bathrooms and a usable kitchen, but the dungeons were moldy, and it wasn't a very fashionable ancestral home. It had a wide variety of styles as far as furniture went and the only thing in the entire grounds that could claim any kind of elegance was a little pond out back surrounded by beautiful flowers of Narcissus and a picturesque stone seat held up by magnificently carved fairies. Unfortunately, to sit on the chair and stare into the pond left one bespelled of one's own reflection. It wasn't a particularly horrible curse. Anyone who happened to see one and pass one by can shake one out of the trance, but if one were to get caught and nobody else happened by, then one can very well sit there for just as long, never realizing that one's body needed food, or clothing, or care. A victim can very well wither away and die sitting on the stone bench.
They headed back to the medical facility set up in one of the rooms, passing several Order members by along the way. The medical facility was filled with injured travelers, and those wizards and witches that were well or able assisted the healers however they could. All meetings were postponed until most of the attack-victims were in better condition. Food was not going to be a problem since most of the Order members weren't really advocates of S.P.E.W., therefore they had their house elves working when it was necessary. The beds Harry and Ron had previously occupied was yet unmade, but at least that meant it didn't need to be filled by a new patient.
Tonks, traces of repaired tissue on the skin of her cheek, frowned at them as they approached. "Well, it's lovely that you two decided to return, because heaven forbid that someone should gainsay the healer who, by the way, only knows what he's doing."
The healer she was referring to was attending to a patient who had shattered his legs from falling off his broom. He arched an eyebrow at Tonks's sarcasm before transferring his disapproving gaze to Harry and Ron.
"And how is Ms. Granger?" he asked.
Harry didn't know if he could answer that while keeping his sanity intact.
Ron answered for him. "She looked awful and I can't imagine that she's feeling comfortable right now."
Tonks's brows knotted at this report but the healer only nodded.
"Yes, she couldn't have been fully healed yet since the other night. Vampires regenerate quickly enough, but patronus injuries are always difficult for them. Perhaps another day's sleep and she will look much, much better. You can give some of your blood for the cause, if you're so inclined to help her, but I'd advise you two to take a few more hours to recover before you do anything like that. Dementors sucked your life forces, you see. For some people, that's somewhat staggering. I recommend rest, but what do I know? I'm just a healer."
Harry fidgeted.
Red in the face, Ron nodded. "Er, right. In a while, then. In the meantime, Harry and I went by Malfoy's cell. He needs a healer. He-er-fell on his face and-umm-broke his nose. Knocked out a couple of teeth, too. He's alright, but I think it somewhat rattled his head a bit, so he'll probably tell weird stories about-er-Harry attacking him or some bollocks-um, sorry-odd story like that…"
Harry would be utterly shocked if anyone bought that bullcrap.
Tonks's eyebrow arched.
The healer's facial expression did not change. "Is that so? Well then, he will need a healer if he's saying odd things. I'll send someone over with an auror. Tonks, be a dear and bring Healer Thurston with you to Mr. Malfoy."
Tonks nodded, maintaining her raised eyebrow as she gave Ron and Harry one last look before seeing to the task.
Ron and Harry gave their thanks and scurried on out of the facility, their stride propelled by guilt.
"You didn't have to lie for me, mate," Harry said quietly as they went. "I can take responsibility for my actions."
"First of all," Ron said, leading them through the many torch-lit hallways of the manor. "If anyone believed me while I barfed that story up, I'd say the Order staffed itself with a bunch of imbeciles and our chances of fighting this war successfully with them are nil. Secondly, I owe you for confunding that examiner at the Apparating Licensing Office. So now we're both cheats and liars and we owe each other nothing. All I have left to do is get that blasted Malfoy out of my hair and I'm all squared with the Fates."
Harry sighed. So he wasn't as wily as Hermione when it came to confunding people. Then again, maybe Ron knew about that, too. Best not bring it up.
Ron checked rooms as they went, and at the third door, he walked in. Harry followed.
They were in what looked like a potions lab. It looked used in some parts, dusty in others. It wasn't an abandoned room, but it didn't look like anyone was using it at present. Ron lit the torches.
"Now," said Ron, leaning lightly against a table. "I don't really need to know anything about what happened with Malfoy. I don't need to know anything, period, but you know you can talk to me. I'll try not to say anything too stupid."
Harry was surprised to feel that he did need to talk to someone. Gathering his thoughts, he sank into one of the many high stools and felt anxiety knotting his stomach anew. "I think Hermione's going to break up with me. I-I can just feel it coming on! W-What do you think I should do?"
Ron's eyes widened. "Whoa! Hey, back it up, now… tell me from the beginning."
Harry sighed but nodded. He supposed getting into the details of it would do him some good. "We've been fighting a lot. It was easy enough when she first got back from St. Mungo's, and then she got really quiet, as if everything was fine, but I can feel that she had things on her mind. Heavy things. When I finally got her to talk it was like anything could set us both off. Now I'm always afraid I'd say something, and I think she feels that way too, but we end up fighting anyway. You saw it in the dungeon, didn't you? It's usually like that. Sometimes, during the worse of it, we end up-well, you know…"
"Shagging?"
"Good lord… fine. Yeah, shagging." Harry sighed. He realized he shouldn't be so jarred by Ron's vulgarity. There was, after all, little time for niceties. "But that doesn't exactly fix anything. It's some kind of distraction, or a fix of some sorts. It just… puts it off. Then just when I thought sharing something really special with her would make things all better, it just got worse!"
"When you say 'really special'-"
"Please don't make me explain that, Ron. You couldn't possibly understand it."
"Hey, now-"
"It's not personal. None of you would be able to understand it. It was very intimate; between me and Hermione. All you have to understand is that it was special to me, too, but it didn't help. It didn't help!"
"Alright then," said Ron in a calm, collected voice. "Easy now… so you think this is all leading up to Hermione breaking up with you."
Harry flung a hand in the direction of the dungeons. "You heard her in there, mate. Tell me honestly. What did you think she was trying to say?"
Ron seemed to be giving it a thought and for a while he didn't say anything. Finally, he spoke. "She was just upset."
Harry groaned in frustration, pressing the heel of his hands to his eyes before looking up. "Whatever! She's thinking it. That's the bottom line, isn't it? I love her, and I know she loves me, but she's got this… this issue. It's always been there, even when she was human. She thinks I deserve better than her."
"That's rubbish. She deserves better than your sorry arse."
Harry took a moment to shoot him a wry sneer but appreciated Ron for the jab, anyway. Besides, the point was, Ron understood what he was trying to say. "Right. So now that she's vampire, this issue of hers just got worse. I mean, now she thinks she's a monster, or she's awful, or short-tempered, or-or whatever the hell would make her seem unbearable. But it's just not like that for me! It's a helluva lot different being with a vampire than it is being with a human, sure, but this is Hermione, whatever she is, and she's still really her, whatever she's changed into and I-I-" He groped for his next thought, finding what words he could think of inadequate.
"And you just love her."
Harry stared at Ron in surprise. The simple words were always the best, after all. The bastard really does get it. "Yeah…"
"Have you tried to tell her all this?"
"It's all I've been doing… and she just isn't listening."
"Have you been listening?"
Harry scowled. "Of course I have. I've done nothing but be there for her. I've been-"
"Maybe-" Ron stopped and hesitated.
Harry waited. When Ron didn't continue, Harry insisted. "What?"
A pained expression came over Ron's face. "F-Forget it."
"What?"
"I-I don't-"
"For fuck's sake, Ron! Just spit it out! I'm desperate here!"
Ron sighed, running a hand down his face. "Maybe you should give her some space."
Harry let the full effect of Ron's words sink in before he said anything. "Are you mad? There's a BLOODY CHASM between us right now, Ron. If I give her anymore space, she'd have to use a telescope to see me!"
"Calm down! All I'm saying is that maybe you're trying a bit too hard to make this work. Maybe you need to back off. Let her get some thinking time in without you being there pressuring her to think this way and that way."
Harry thought this was the worse idea ever.
Ron wouldn't be trying to sabotage my relationship with Hermione, would he?
Harry frowned at his own musings. Of course not.
He slumped into his seat, shaking his head. "I don't know if I can do that. I'm too afraid of losing her, as it is. Now you're saying I should give her space. That's almost like telling me to break up with her."
"It's not like that," said Ron wearily. "Just give her time to let her realize things on her own."
"And what if she realizes she doesn't want to be with me anymore?"
Ron looked at him sadly. "That's the tricky part about relationships. You both have to want to be in it. The sooner Hermione realizes what she wants, the better it will be for the both of you, no matter what she decides to do, and you're going to have to live with her decision. It's just the way things go."
It was too depressing to think about, but that was the reality of it. Harry felt a little nonplussed getting sound advice from Ron. "Where did you get all this relationship stuff? I mean, no offense, but your emotional range… you know, teaspoon and stuff…"
It was Ron's turn to shoot him a wry grimace. "Believe it or not, I learned a thing or two having that 'relationship' with Lavender. It was nice that she was so into me the first few weeks, but after a while, she began to feel like a leech, you know? She just wouldn't leave me alone! Mental, that woman. I think if she gave me a moment's peace when I wanted it, we'd have worked out better. I really did fancy her, anyway. I wouldn'tve kissed her if I didn't."
"Well, that's a relief. Least you didn't throw your chance with Hermione away for nothing."
Ron reddened. "You just had to remind me about that, didn't you?"
Harry shrugged. He supposed he did have to.
He got up from the stool and headed for the door. "I'm going to see if they need any help at the infirmary. You coming?"
"Yeah. Oy, do you think we can find something to eat first? All that drama's got me hungry as hell."
Harry nodded, clapping Ron's shoulder. "There you are, Ron! Thought I'd lost you there for a while. 'Course we should eat first. I'm pretty famished myself. Now we just have to find the kitchen…"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione's second day's sleep had been in a coffin. McGonagall had found a large crate, and it suited its purpose.
Healing came faster for Hermione having a coffin to sleep in, and by the time the third night came around, the burn tissue on her body was gone. Her skin was oddly translucent, some of her veins somewhat visible through the pale membrane, but it was nothing grotesque. Her right eye was gold instead of brown, but she could see out of it.
After she fed, Remus eyed her anxiously. "Are you going to be alright?"
She nodded, smiling slightly. "I believe so. Thank you, Remus. I don't think I could've gotten through it without you."
"Think nothing of it." He patted her shoulder gently as he rose from his seat. "I've some things to attend to upstairs. The meeting will be held tonight, finally. Took a while, but we got around to it."
"I'll definitely be there. I bet they're all dying to ogle the vampire, anyway."
"There's that…"
"And there's what else?"
Remus paused. "Some of them are afraid of you."
"Of course they are."
"It's just a heads up, really. Don't let them get to you. Just remember that the people who matter to you are all glad to have you here and alive."
She smiled at him gratefully.
He returned her smile. "I'll see you later."
He left.
Hermione gingerly got to her feet and went to rummage through her rucksack. Most of her things were still inside it, including her three bottles of synthetic blood and her journal. She was still trying to figure out how she was able to keep most of her things but managed to lose her coffin.
Normal people lose quills. I lose a fucking coffin. She snorted softly, bowled over by the utter irony. I could kill myself if I wasn't already dead.
She dug out one of her T-shirts. It had a rottweiler staring out of it and it said, "Be my bitch and I promise not to bite you," underneath. It seemed appropriate for the occasion.
The door slid open and she was about to ask Remus if he had forgotten something when she realized it wasn't Remus at all.
She gasped softly. "Harry…"
He hadn't dropped by to see her after their fight and she had a horrible feeling that she had finally chased him away. She missed him, and the only reason she hadn't gone up to the manor to look for him was because she was in too much pain the night before. Besides, even if she did manage to get around, she imagined she wasn't the prettiest sight there was.
He seemed surprised by her appearance. Either he hadn't expected she'd regenerate so quickly or she looked scarier than ever to him.
"I'm glad you're better," he said, shoving his hands into his pocket. "I… I'm sorry I didn't come by the other night. I got hung up helping in the infirmary…"
She waved away his apology. "Don't worry about it. I wasn't in any condition to be good company, anyway…"
He fidgeted.
She didn't wait too long. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off on you like that."
He lowered his gaze. "It wasn't your fault. I didn't have the right to be getting angry with anyone; even Malfoy. Just… you looked so… broken…"
"Well, I'm fixed now. I still look a tad lopsided, I know, but I don't look as frightening as before. At least I hope so." She just wanted the tension to go away. "I heard a few Order members are afraid of me, so I'm going up there with a bang." She showed him her t-shirt.
He laughed softly. "Yeah, that ought to win them over."
Silence fell upon them.
She felt her stomach knot. It was a new feeling. She never had it for Harry, at least not in a bad way. Not like this. "Listen, Harry-"
"W-Wait," he said in that softly pleading tone of his. He crossed the distance between them, put his arms around her and took her in a tight embrace.
She sighed but sank into his arms. She didn't know if Harry was deliberately trying to distract her or he just really missed not having talked to her at all the previous night.
Hermione realized that it hardly mattered, anyway. She had missed him, too. It was horrible to be fighting with him that way. She embraced back. She just wished they could always be this blissfully in love.
Unable to help herself, she told him she loved him and he whispered it right back, placing a kiss or two on the top of her head as he said it.
She pulled back a bit so she could look into his gaze as she spoke. She pressed her palm to his cheek. "I've been yelling at you a lot, lately, haven't I? And you don't deserve it. You've been so patient and supportive."
There was a split heartbeat of strain around his eyes, and then it was gone, the intensity of his emerald gaze softening.
Their foreheads touched, noses brushing tenderly as they swayed ever so slightly to an imaginary melody.
He smiled. It was difficult for her to see if there was any sadness to it with him so close. "You're going through a lot and I'm so desperate to take care of you. I… I talked to Ron some. I hope you don't mind. I just needed-"
"You don't have to explain," she interrupted gently. "I want you to have someone to talk to, and I couldn't think of anyone better than Ron. We both trust him so very much."
He nodded, planting a short, but slow kiss on her lips. The grateful quality behind it made her heart melt. "Ron thinks I… I need to back off a bit. Give you space."
She tensed, the words throwing her thoughts in a jumble. Could it be that simple? Had Ron-Mr. Emotional Range of a Teaspoon-actually hit on an insightful point? She had spoken to Cicero and Remus about what was eating into her, and they both gently explained that Harry was merely acting on instinct and emotion, and that she had to understand what he was going through. They never told her to tell Harry to back off. Maybe that was a viable solution. It seemed like a logical course of action, at any rate. It might be just the thing, right?
"I'm not breaking up or anything like that," Harry added hastily, misinterpreting. "Gods, no! I just… I just have to recognize situations where you need time alone, I suppose. I… haven't exactly figured out how this works, but the idea's there, yes?"
"Yes," she replied softly. "Yes, the idea is there. We'll work with that. We can make this work, can't we, Harry?"
"Of course," he whispered, pulling her closer. "Of course. We'll always try. And I'll do anything. You know I will…"
The knotting in her stomach was forestalled by the onslaught of his wonderful kiss. His lips… his tongue…
She felt around his body for his wand.
A low chuckle rose from his throat. "What are you doing?"
"Your wand…"
"A little bit more to the left. Usually between my legs…"
She giggled softly. "Not that wand, the real one. Made of wood…"
"Well, the other one's feeling rather woody about now-"
She grinned, feeling her instincts spike and her fangs inching out of her gums. "I need the one with the phoenix tail feather, you naughty boy. How else am I going to seal that dungeon door? Silencing charms will come in handy, too, don't you think?"
She found his wand and charmed the dungeon with quick, graceful flicks. When the chamber was properly warded, she summoned a vial of her synthetic blood. She popped the contents of it in her mouth and instantly felt her instincts falling under control.
Harry raised his eyebrow at the vial, probably realizing that there wouldn't be any bloodletting tonight, but he seemed able to get over his disappointment quickly.
"Ah, now it all comes clear, you wicked witch, you…" He was already pulling up the edges of her shirt and feeling for the clasp of her bra. "Should've known your intentions were impure…"
"Oh, shut it. Your thoughts aren't exactly dove-white right now, either. Now, about this wand of yours…" She undid his trousers and slipped her hands into his pants, one hand to stroke him and the other to cup him.
He groaned as both hands squeezed with the necessary pressure. He smiled lazily at her ministrations. "Holy Merlin… you always were a hand in charms class…"
"Hmm, yes. I'm very good, aren't I?" She slid her grip down him firmly and up again, letting her thumb roll over the tip of his cock. No easy thing, considering she hadn't pushed down his pants and trousers.
He did that for her as he nodded. "The best."
"We've never shagged in a dungeon, have we?" she breathed, kissing his throat lazily as she released controlled bursts of her pheromones.
He moaned as the pheromones hit him. She took that opportunity to press him back against the wall.
She slid down him and he was utterly powerless when she took him in her mouth.
Leaning back, a sound of pleasure escaped him.
She focused on keeping her fangs retracted as she licked, sucked and squeezed, even as brand new emotions were trying to jumble her thoughts.
Merlin, she thought, making sounds from her throat as she took him deep in her mouth. There's a coffin in the room! Does he even realize that?
Instead of freaking out, she realized that the thought that she was giving him enough pleasure to not let the coffin bother him made her very, very aroused. She had to pull back from him to control the surge of vampirism that came over her.
She looked up at him as she momentarily used her hands to substitute her mouth and saw that he was watching her with heavy lidded fascination, running his fingers idly through her hair. She licked her lips as she managed to check her instincts and took him again, going into a steady, consistent motion.
The groaning and gasping sounds he made were much louder now and she knew that if she kept on, he would come. It excited her exceedingly, but before she could make it feel even better for him, he pulled himself away from her and coaxed her up.
His grip on her shoulders as he kissed her was almost painful, and she could tell he was letting his excitement drift down to a manageable level. When his heavy breathing evened, he helped her out of her trousers and knickers, shifting them so it was her back pressed against the wall.
She wanted to tell him that this was supposed to be only for him, but she supposed she hadn't the will to resist, especially when she was already so wet. His fingers found her, one and then two of his digits inserting themselves as his thumb stroked her clit gently.
Gasping, she met his intense gaze and pleaded him with her eyes to put her out of her misery.
He kissed her languorously before pulling her shirt and bra off her, rendering her completely naked.
"Turn around," he whispered.
The anticipation of what he was going to do to her almost made her come right then and she didn't hesitate to do as he said. Her palms on the rough stone, she shifted and bent over slightly to accommodate him. Her vampire instincts reared, and she realized that this way, she could let her instincts go a bit more and she didn't have to worry about biting him by accident. With vampiric eyes, she watched him over her shoulder as he pulled off his shirt. She admired the lines on his lithe body and shuddered with anticipation as she let the scent of his blood flavor the air.
He was inside her in an instant, his hands on her hips as they joined with a combined rhythm.
His thrusts tingled through her and she closed her eyes, sounds escaping her involuntarily. One of his hands began to circle her clit while the other fondled her breast.
This feels so amazing, she thought, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. She got louder.
He intensified his ministrations, his thrusting gone almost frantic. Without losing his rhythm, he bent over her and planted passionate kisses on her neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin at intervals. She could hear his moans between kisses, soft but deep with desire.
She was going to come and she gasped as she told him this, over and over, as if to beg him not to stop.
He nipped at her earlobe and hissed, telling her he was going to come with her.
It felt exhilarating to know they were so connected.
Craning her neck and reaching behind her to hold him by the back of his head, she let their lips meet, tongues tangling fiercely.
When their lips separated, he gasped. "Oh…" He thrust even harder. "… fuck!"
Hermione didn't know if it was his profanity that finally did her in but she came so loudly and with such intense pleasure that she hardly even noticed that he was coming just as hard as she was, their cries mingling throughout the magically insulated chamber.
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A/N: Even *I* blushed writing this, but like I said in my opening A/N, there's a theme, so I had to write the sex this way to make some kind of symbolic adherence to that theme. *Anyway*, I hope it was still hot. That's important in a smut scene.